Stringy webs between the stars whisper tales of soliloquy and echoes.

A child's foot steps upon a glimmering snail that knows all the whispers of tomorrow.

Below the sea of dreams, the Fibonacci spirals twist, finding paths unseen. In clocks without hands, the time sings not of hours but of spirals unending.

Through the labyrinth, a forgotten melody threads.

The shadows wear masks of innocence, while the path eats your footsteps, leaving behind unspoken questions in soft moss.

Find solace in the unspoken: hidden echoes

Listen further: chuchurantes

Dare to dream anew: clocks without hands